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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841258">Flowers Bloom Until They Rot</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG'>TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Afterlife, Death from Old Age, Drabble, Established Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion Go To The Coast, I Made Myself Cry, M/M, Old Age, Old Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sad Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Wakes &amp; Funerals</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:21:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841258</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG/pseuds/TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>And then Jaskier asked him to come to the coast with him once more, and Geralt did.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel &amp; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Flowers Bloom Until They Rot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have literally no excuse for this.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The waves crash against the shore, the way they always do. It's a sound Geralt has become so used to over the years it hardly registers even as background noise any more. He sits in the sand, watching the slow advance and retreat of the water, and tries not to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Behind him sits their cottage, small and quaint and nothing like what he thought he would ever have. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it, often, in those futile dreams everybody has. If I were rich, I would. If I were beautiful, I would. If he loved me, I would.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I had a home, I would hold you close forever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Jaskier asked him to come to the coast with him once more, and Geralt did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They haven't really left in a long time. Geralt would still take local jobs until about a decade ago, but even that stopped at some point. He was too afraid he'd leave and return to find Jaskier gone, dead in their bed or collapsed in the garden. The bard laughed it off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You worry too much, love, I'm not going to just drop dead. I plan to keep on annoying you for many years to come."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Geralt stayed. He worked in the garden, tended to his herbs and the few sheep they acquired at some point. Jaskier would sing and hum and read to him, and Geralt was content.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>They don't have mirrors in their house. The few visitors they get nowadays think it's for Jaskier's benefit, so that he won't have to see his own frailty, his lined face and white hair and pale eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not for Jaskier's sake. It's so Geralt doesn't have to see himself, doesn't have to be so viscerally reminded of how unchanged he is in comparison to the bard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier looks every one of his years. Geralt looks barely older than he did when they met, all those decades ago in a horrible little tavern at the edge of the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurts enough to look at Jaskier and see the knowledge in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>"He asked for you." Ciri is behind him, and he jumps a little. He didn't even hear her approach. "It won't be long now, I think," she says, and his heart twists at the pain in her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt gets to his feet and brushes the sand away from his backside before he follows her back into the house. It's quiet inside, the silence all-consuming, and Geralt hates it. He hates it fiercely, the way he never thought he could hate anything as innocuous as silence. Before Jaskier, silence was his trusty companion, only broken by the sounds of nature, and then came a beautiful young man who refused to let himself be scared off, and Geralt forgot what silence felt like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, it's only broken by laboured breathing, and a too weak heartbeat, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. The only thing he dreads more is what will come after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier is where he always is, now. He looks tiny in their bed, bony and weak, and Geralt wants to run. He doesn't want to remember his lover like this. He wants the vibrant youth who talked his ear off despite Geralt steadfastly ignoring him. He wants the adult who didn't take any of Geralt's self-deprecating bullshit and told him in no uncertain terms how much he loved him. He wants Jaskier in middle age, gone a bit softer around the middle and the first soft lines appearing around his eyes, stray greying hairs amongst the soft brown. He even wants the old Jaskier, when his hair went completely white and he smiled at Geralt with mischief in his eyes and said, "Now we match!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd do anything to stop this, but he can't. There is nothing he can do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ciri squeezes his hand softly before she turns to leave, and Geralt crosses the small room. He kicks off his boots and slides under the covers beside Jaskier, pulls him against himself gently. He's thin, so thin and light, and Geralt's eyes burn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Geralt?" Jaskier's eyes flutter, and he hums in reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm here, lark."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thought… you'd left." Speaking costs him, the effort enough to steal his breath, and Geralt strokes his soft, thin hair away from his face. Watery blue eyes open to peer up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I would never leave you, Jaskier."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hm." The bard watches him for a long moment. His heartbeat is far too slow, too weak, and Geralt can barely breathe, his chest is so tight. "Always thought… I'd be the one… left behind."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is horrible pressure behind Geralt's eyes, in his whole head, but he can't cry. He needs to be brave for Jaskier. "Ssh, don't speak. Save your strength."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier smiles, painfully. "What for? We both know… how this story ends, my love."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier…"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You gave me… everything, Geralt. A… a love story for the ages." His eyes slip closed, but the smile remains. "My only regret… is having to leave you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's too much. The pressure bursts and all of a sudden he's crying, sobbing like a child, his hands curled into the soft linen of Jaskier's nightshirt. "Please don't go, please stay, I can't lose you, Jaskier, I can't-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier hums, strokes thin fingers along the edge of his jaw. Geralt's tears slide along his palm. "I would. I wish... I could, my love." His pulse is weak, so weak, and Geralt can't </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "Promise me… something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Anything, please, just- Just hold on, just a bit longer, Jask, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't die here… with me," Jaskier says softly, "keep living, Geralt. For me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can't answer. He's crying too hard now, big, heaving sobs he can't control. Jaskier's palm presses against his chest and Geralt pulls him closer still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll wait… for you," Jaskier says now, so quietly, and then he doesn't say anything any more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart beats, and beats, and beats, and then it stops.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Geralt barely notices the time passing. He's vaguely aware of Ciri appearing in the doorway, and then he hears the low voices of Lambert and Eskel. Someone tries to pry his hands off of Jaskier but he snarls and they leave him be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's dark, and then light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... ralt. Geralt."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks. The sun is shining outside. It looks like a perfect spring day. Eskel sits in a chair by the door, watching him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Back with us?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a weight in his arms, a too light one, entirely still, and he squeezes his eyes shut.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The fire lights up the night sky, embers dancing in the heated air. Geralt is numb, standing at the edge of the water as the flames roar. Ciri is holding his hand, a gentle, steady presence by his side, Eskel and Lambert on the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew this was going to happen, knew it from the moment he allowed the foppish, noisy man into his heart. One way or the other, he would be left behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt thought he knew what pain is. Turns out he was wrong.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>There is a fork tail, or a fiend, or a wyvern. It doesn't matter. A monster, and a Witcher. Only one of them lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there is a field, a field of dandelions, and blue eyes.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>I remember fields</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of flowers</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soft beneath my heels</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking in the sun</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I remember someone</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone by my side</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turned his face to mine</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title and lyrics from "Flowers" from Hadestown.</p><p>Come yell at me on <a href="https://twitter.com/formerly_as_g?s=09">Twitter</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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